


We Just Decided To

by winterfool



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Newsroom AU, Steggy Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13145568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterfool/pseuds/winterfool
Summary: Disillusioned news anchor Steve Rogers finds his show and his life turned upside down by the arrival of determined EP Peggy Carter.





	1. Chapter 1

“I hired you a new EP.”

Steve stopped halfway through the door to stare at Fury, hoping he had misheard that. He must have. Surely there was no way that Fury would just drop something like that on him, not so casually, not when he hadn’t even turned around from his computer screen – was, in fact, focusing on what appeared to be an online poker game.

Forehead creased into a frown, Steve came fully into the office and closed the door behind him before saying warily, “Excuse me?”

“Would you believe some twelve year old punk is trying to convince me he has two Jacks in the hole?” Fury gestured frustratedly at the screen. “As if I haven’t been playing this game since before he was born.”

“Nick.”

“You can’t fool me that easy, kid.”

“ _Nick_.”

“Hang on, hang on … well, god damn it. Would you look at that?”

Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “He had the Jacks?”

“He had the Jacks. I oughta tell his parents.” Fury sighed and clicked away from the game before spinning in his seat to finally look at Steve. “Now, like I said, Rogers, I’ve hired you a new EP.”

So he hadn’t misheard. But he still didn’t understand, and had to clamp down on the wave of annoyance surging up inside him.

“Why? I have a perfectly good EP.”

Fury leaned back in his chair, eyeing Steve with a sharply speculative look. “I’m putting Barnes on ten o’ clock with Wilson.”

Now that was news. Steve blinked, taken aback for a moment and equal parts pleased and frustrated by the revelation. He had been lobbying for months for the network to give Sam his own show and he couldn’t be anything less than thrilled that they had finally listened. But he had never envisioned that Bucky would be sent along with him.

“Look, you know I think Sam’ll make a great anchor, but he and Bucky will kill each other.”

“You think so? I don’t. Oh, I know -” Fury raised a hand to forestall his argument – “They never stop arguing. But I think that’s what’s going to make their show exciting. Barnes will push Wilson out of his comfort zone – somewhere he stopped pushing you several years ago.”

“He didn’t –”

“Yes, he did. I know you go way back and when you started, you were a great team. But at some point, you stopped trying, Rogers. For the last couple of years, you’ve just been phoning it in. Getting by giving people want they want to hear and not offending anyone.”

Steve’s brow had furrowed into a deeper and deeper frown as Fury spoke and now, suspicion flaring in the back of his mind, a muscle in his jaw twitched. Tightly, he started, “If this is about what happened –”

A sound that could have been a laugh or could have been contempt came from the back of Fury’s throat. “Of course it’s about what happened. You think you can just go off on the Secretary of Defence live on air and we’re gonna carry on as if it never happened?”

“No, of course not. But isn’t that what the month off was about?” Steve demanded, feeling like the ground was shifting beneath his feet and he had no idea how to keep his balance. “Why do you have to take my EP?”

Fury didn’t answer, but clicked to another screen on his computer which was, Steve’s stomach sank as he recognised it, open to the YouTube upload of that disastrous interview with Alexander Pierce a few weeks ago. He pressed play, and immediately Steve’s own voice filled the room.

 _“You can’t be serious right now, Mr Secretary. To implement the kind of system you’re talking about would mean increasing the defence budget by several billion dollars.”_ _  
_

_Alexander Pierce gave a low, dry chuckle. “I think it’s an investment worth making if it keeps people safe.”_

_“You are aware,” Steve asked, voice as hard-edged as a diamond, “That we already spend more on defence than the next twenty-six countries combined, twenty-five of which are our allies?”_

_“No one ever said freedom was cheap.”_

_“This isn’t freedom. This is fear.”_

_“No, it’s freedom from fear.” Pierce was beginning to sound disgruntled. “This system will enable our authorities to tackle threats to this country with far more efficiency and accuracy, so people can go about their daily lives knowing they are safe and secure. It’s carrying on the legacy that this – the greatest country in the world – was founded on.”_

_Steve only snorted. “Okay, now I know you can’t be serious. Because that is bullshit.”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“First of all, this is absolutely not what the Founding Fathers intended for this country – or would have, if they had had the ability to forsee the technological advances we’ve made. And second, it’s not the greatest the country in the world.”_

_There was a deep silence in the studio for a minute, then Pierce, sounding both angry and perversely pleased at having provoked Steve, said, “Not what I would have expected to hear from the man the New York Times dubbed Captain America for his patriotism.”_

_“Patriotism doesn’t mean ignoring the facts. And fact is that there is absolutely no evidence to support the statement that we’re the greatest country in the world. We’re 7th in literacy, 27th in math, 22nd in science, 49th in life expectancy, 178th in infant mortality, 3rd in median household income and number four in exports. The only areas in which we come first are the number of incarcerated citizens per capita, the number of adults who believe angels are real and defence spending, which I’ve already mentioned is ridiculously high. With that in mind, I’d say it is at best recklessly irresponsible and at worst downright dangerous to spout off crap like America is the greatest country in the world on a forum that people rely on to guide and inform them if they one day decide to go into a voting booth.”_

_“Mr Rogers -”_

_“I’m not a patriot because I believe this country can do no wrong. I’m a patriot because I believe this country has done and can do great things – if, say, we invest in education, health care, trade, eliminating poverty or reforming our justice system instead of constantly pumping money into the military and reasoning that being the biggest bully on the playground makes us right.”_

The video ended.

Steve stood, eyes closed, biting down hard on his lip as he relived that moment when he suddenly realised he had said all that in the middle of a live broadcast to one of the highest-ranking members of the government. Who had ripped off his microphone and stormed out of the studio as soon as they cut to a commercial.

It had gone up on YouTube within the hour, and the last time Steve had looked it had had close to a million views. It had been picked up by every other major news network, one of the most polarising stories of the year. To everyone commenting and reporting, Steve was either a hero, saying something that had long needed to be said, or a traitor. There was nothing in between.

He had been put on mandatory leave while his own network did damage control. Leave which had ended today.

“That’s why you need a new EP,” Fury said now. “I’d almost forgotten what you’re like when you’re riled up, that you had that in you. I want to see more of it. So I’ve decided to shake things up.”

Steve cracked his eyes open fractionally to squint at him. “You … want me to shout at _more_ cabinet members?”

“If any of ‘em agree to come on the show, sure.”

“I don’t know, Nick.”

“Just talk to the EP. Try it. You might be surprised.”

He sighed, knowing he wasn’t really being given a choice in this matter. “Don’t I get contractual approval over a new EP?”

Fury grinned. “You would think, but no.”

His shoulders slumped. “Who is it?”

“Peggy Carter.”

“Peggy Carter?” The name was familiar, though Steve had never met her face-to-face. But he knew she had run shows at CNN, MSNBC and CBS over the years, and that eight out of ten people would say she was the best Executive Producer in the business.

Fury nodded. “She’s been embedded for the last two years. Been shot at in three different countries, got stabbed covering a Shiite protest, and now she wants to come home to a newsroom. And I want to make a change. If I were a less cynical man, I’d maybe say it was fate.”

“But you’re not a less cynical man, so …?”

“So I say I’m just damn lucky and you need to get your ass downstairs and make nice to your new EP, Rogers.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Peggy slowly circled the newsroom as she waited for Steve Rogers. This was going to be her domain and she wanted to get used to it.

It was state-of-the-art and ultra-modern, all glass walls and large screens showing everything the company was currently broadcasting. It was also at this current moment half-empty. From what Peggy had gathered talking to the few staff still around, a good number of them had decided to go with James Barnes and Sam Wilson to the new ten o’ clock show. She had asked one of the men, something Dugan, that had stayed why he hadn’t gone, he had shrugged a run a hand through his thinning blond hair.

“Look, we love Barnes. He’s a good friend,” he had said, finally. “If he needs help with anything, we’ll be there. But Steve … Steve’s our captain. We ain’t leaving him high and dry, you know?”

The answer made Peggy smile. She had spent a good portion of the last two weeks watching a lot of Steve Rogers’ broadcasts – especially the last, infamous interview – and the more she watched, the more she was intrigued by him. Knowing that he commanded such loyalty in his staff only made her more curious to meet him in person.

Now, across the room, she saw the door open and Steve himself stride in. He looked around the room for a moment, then his eyes locked on to her and he started towards her. Peggy straightened, tugging at the ends of her jacket.

“You must be Peggy Carter,” he said when he reached her. Despite the fact that the camera was supposed to add ten pounds, if anything he seemed even broader in person than he did on the screen, towering over her where they stood.

“I am.” She nodded, tilting her head back to look him directly in the eye. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Can we talk in my office?”

She gestured for him to the lead the way. His office was a corner one, his desk positioned back against the far wall and various art prints adorning the walls. A signed baseball in a display case had pride of place on one bookshelf.

Steve stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face her. “Look, I don’t know what Fury said to you –”

“But you had no idea any of this was happening until just now?” Peggy guessed, raising an eyebrow.

“Right.”

“And now you’re feeling blindsided and probably a little betrayed at having this decision made behind your back and not getting any say in who your new EP is.”

“Right again.” A faint smile touched the corner of his mouth.

Peggy nodded, looking at him for a moment. She had known he was good-looking, of course, having seen him on screen – the network had obviously encouraged him to make use of that wholesome, classic American charm – but she had always thought his eyes seemed so blue because of a trick of the studio light. It turned out that, no, in fact, they really were that bright in person.  
It was … disconcerting.

“Look, I don’t want to step on any toes,” she said, “But I think we could create a great show together. One that truly gives people the information they need.”

“Do you?” He didn’t sound convinced.

She drummed her fingers against her side. “Why did you become a news anchor?”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. For a moment he didn’t answer, crossing to look out of his window. Then, back still turned to her, he said slowly, “My mom and I used to watch the news together when I was growing up. She wasn’t big into TV – she was a nurse, didn’t really have the time – but when she was home she always made time for the news. She told me it was important, we needed to be informed and know what was going on in the world and in our country. So when it came time to vote, we’d know which candidates we wanted in power.”

“There’s nothing more important in a democracy than a well-informed electorate.”

“Exactly. I admired those men I watched, who informed people. They were heroes to me. They spoke out when other people didn’t have the power to, stopped bullies from silencing people. That’s what I wanted to do.”

Peggy took a step towards him. “It’s what you used to do. I’ve watched your broadcasts, Steve. But at some point you decided to stop … well, bothering people, I suppose. Why?”  
He looked over his shoulder at her, his brow netted into a frown. “Because at least this way some people are still listening. Maybe it’s not everything I’d like to say, but it’s better than nothing.”

“And those are your only two options, are they?” She folded her arms, challenging him. “To be an opinion-less cardboard cut-out for the ratings or not be on the air at all? You can do more than this.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I saw your interview. And I _loved_ what you said to Alexander Pierce. He needed to hear it. The American people needed to hear it. There’s more where that came from, I know there is.”  
He stared at her, mouth slightly open, as though he had no idea how to respond to her fervent tone. Feeling encouraged by silence, thinking she was getting through to him, Peggy took another step forward as she continued.

“Who says a good news show can’t be popular?”

“Nielsen ratings,” Steve shot back immediately, pointing a large report on his desk. “Independent polling shows that this country is more polarised now that at any other time since the Civil War. People choose the facts they want. What makes you think we can change their minds?”

Peggy made a sound of irritation. “Because we have to. Yes, we’ll probably lose viewers, but I would rather do a good news show for a hundred people than a bad one for a thousand.” He was wavering, she could see it in his eyes. He wanted to agree with her, but he had become disillusioned and was struggling. Softening her tone, she met his gaze with earnest honesty. “People will want the news if you give it to them with integrity. And you have that in spades, Rogers. You also have charm, affability, good looks and intelligence on your side. With my experience, there’s no reason why we can’t convince them that the facts – the real facts - are worth listening to. We’re going to do a good news show, and we’re going to make it popular at the same time.”

He turned to face her fully. “You really believe that?”

“Every word.”

His gaze seemed to burn into her as he weighed her words, then a slow smile spread over his face. He held out his hand towards her. She took it; his skin was soft, fingertips just slightly calloused, and his hand so large it almost entirely engulfed hers. A shiver ran down her spine.

“Alright. Let’s do a news show.”


	3. Chapter 3

Within two months, Steve was feeling more alive and energised than he could remember feeling in years. Despite his initial uncertainty, Peggy’s faith had infected him – like a spark had suddenly been relit, the fire that had once fuelled him had roared to life and he found himself actually looking forward to going to work every day for more than just seeing Bucky and his other friends. He had a purpose again, knew what he wanted to achieve.

And then there was Peggy.

Steve had known of her reputation but hadn’t been entirely sure what to expect of her until the moment he met her, when he realised she was going to turn his world completely upside down.

The things she had said in his office replayed in his mind, galvanising him and making him want to do better and that desire only increased as he watched her reforming the show. She was brilliant, whip-smart and determined, marshalling everyone in the office and pushing them to do better.

Steve could have sat watching her run the newsroom for hours. He had to admit, Fury had made absolutely the right call in hiring her. He had never had a better EP.

Who would have thought that losing his temper live on air would end up being the best thing he could have done?

There were bumps along the road, of course. Not long into their restructuring of the new one of the new APs screwed up a pre-interview about SB 1070 with a Senator’s press aide and she had pulled out of the show – they had been left to scramble to find anyone they could to fill the gap, and the people they had found apparently hadn’t had a brain cell to share between them. As much as Steve had tried to carry them, it had been a disaster of a show.

“Ugh … that was terrible,” Peggy said later, at a bar down the street from the office. Her hair, which had been tied in a knot, was starting to come loose and curl around her face and she was already two cocktails in, but she was somehow still the most beautiful woman Steve had ever seen in his life. “We fucked up.”

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed. “And yeah, we did.”

She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “Why do you sound so bloody _cheerful_ about it?”

He shrugged. “Because not along ago, I wasn’t trying enough to even feel like I had fucked up.”

Something in her eyes flickered and softened, and her posture relaxed. Her lips, which had been pursed in a cross between a pout and a scowl, curved into a small smile that Steve had to make a concerted effort not to let his gaze rest on for too long. She raised her glass.

“Then here’s to trying.”

Steve clinked his own drink against hers. “Here’s to doing better tomorrow.”


	4. Chapter 4

“So, why did you get into the news business?”

There was hardly anyone but the two of them left in the office. They had sent everyone else home after the show wrapped, but still wanted to go through research on Citizens United that their Senior Producer, Jim Morita, had been working on. Peggy looked up from the report she was reading to focus on Steve, eyebrows knitting into a frown.

“What?”

“I told you why I became an anchor, but I never asked why you became a producer,” Steve explained with a shrug.

“So you’re asking six months later?”

“Better later than never, right? I’m just asking, why does a beautiful woman decide to become a news producer – I mean,” he quickly added as Peggy’s eyebrows rose, “Not that there isn’t more to you than beauty, or that you’re not qualified, because you are, eminently, it’s just – you know, it’s like with Romanoff, you don’t expect her to have a PhD in Economics, but –”

Peggy probably shouldn’t have been laughing, but she was. There was something strangely endearing about the way he was stumbling over his own words in an attempt to explain himself, and by now she knew him well enough to know that there was absolutely no malice in what he was trying to say.

“Do you know anything about talking to women?”

“Not really, no.” He gave a huff of embarrassed laughter, cheeks stained red, and glanced up at her. His eyes were bright and hopeful, and Peggy’s stomach clenched as she looked into them. “So …?”

She blinked. “Oh. Yes … well, actually, it was because of my brother, Michael.”

“Yeah?”

“We were watching the news one evening – I was maybe sixteen or seventeen, Michael a couple of years older, and one of the guests said something that I knew was an outright lie. And the anchor … didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask them about it, didn’t call them out or follow up or _anything_. I was furious. How could someone just blatantly lie on national television and not face any consequences for it?”

She threw her hands wide as she spoke, reliving that moment and remembering the rage that had poured through her, how she had stood up and started shouting at the television screen.

“And Michael just said to me, if it made me that angry, then I should change it myself. Become an anchor or better yet a producer, because they were ones that were really in control, and make sure I called out any lies. So that’s what I did.”

“So that’s what you did.”

Steve was leaning back in his chair as he listened, a soft, admiring smile on his face that sent all sort of inappropriate thoughts spiralling through her mind.

It didn’t help that she always liked him after he had done a broadcast; he didn’t change out of the suit, just discarded his jacket and tie and rolled his shirt-sleeves up to above his elbows, revealing strong-looking forearms covered in a dusting of golden hair.

If it had just been physical attraction, that would have been one thing. But Steve was fiercely intelligent, passionate and above all kind, with the biggest heart of any man she had ever met. He looked out for every member of their team, standing right beside and in front of them whenever anything went wrong. He always listened to what everyone had to say, and he genuinely cared about them all.

The more she worked with Steve, the more Peggy knew she was in very real danger of falling in love with him.

Maybe she already was, a little.

She was distracted from her thoughts by a clatter behind them, and turned to see the staff of the ten o’ clock show clearing out of the newsroom – including Steve’s best friend and former EP, Bucky Barnes. He was with a pretty blonde woman who looked star-struck to be in the hub of Shield Cable News.  And she was one of several young women she had seen Bucky with in the past months.

“How many dates does your friend go on?” Peggy asked, shaking her head.

Steve followed her gaze and smiled in amusement. “Buck? He’s always been like that, ever since high school. He likes to have fun, but he’s upfront about it.”

“Aren’t you tempted to do the same? You’re the face of SCN, the second-most watched anchor on cable news. You’d probably have a line of women waiting to go out with you if you wanted.”

She didn’t know why she was asking this – whether she was hoping he would give her a reason to stop feeling what she was feeling, or a reason to think he might feel the same. Her heart was pounding as she waited for his answer.

But if anything, he looked surprised. “Me? Nah. I’ve never –” A flush crept up his cheeks – “I’ve never been as good with women as Bucky.”

Despite having just been teasing him for that, Peggy was sceptical eyebrow. “Really.”

“You’ve worked with me for six months – you know I don’t always, I mean, sometimes I stumble over my words, just look at what I said thirty seconds ago -”

“Yes,” she chuckled, “But I also know you’re handsome, successful and charming, and that generally tends to make up for some slight social awkwardness.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t in school. In school I was skinny and kind of nerdy, and had a whole mess of health problems.”

“Health problems?”

“Pernicious anaemia and stomach ulcers. It’s fine now,” he added quickly, seeing her expression change to one of alarm, “But … I guess sometimes it’s difficult to remember that I’m not that sick little kid anymore.”

This conversation wasn’t doing anything to lessen Peggy’s feelings; if anything she was fascinated to find yet another layer to him, to get a glimpse into his insecurities and begin to understand what it was that had made Steve … Steve.

“You’re not though,” she pointed out. “Like I said, you probably have a queue of women wanting to go out with you now. Why not take one of them dancing or something?”

“I’d rather wait.”

“For what?”

“The right partner.”

Peggy didn’t know what answer she had been looking for, but somehow she thought she had found it. She was smiling as she went back to the research.


	5. Chapter 5

The tabloid landed on Steve’s desk with a loud slapping noise.  

Glancing down, he saw his own face taking up most of the cover along with the headline _Sex, Drugs and Captain America._ With a sinking feeling he looked back up into Peggy’s furious face.

“Another one!” she said, brown eyes flashing in a way that made Steve think of the Furies of Greek myth. “That’s, what, three in the last two weeks? This is _bullshit._ ”

“Peggy …” Steve didn’t really know what to say, so let his voice trail off while he picked up the magazine and flipped to the article about him.

It didn’t matter much, anyway, since Peggy didn’t really seem to be in the mood to listen, pacing and up his office looking like she wanted to punch someone. In the time they had been working together, Steve had seen her get angry and frustrated with the staff when they messed up – and he had seen her get angry with _him_ when she thought he wasn’t living up to his potential. But he had never seen her this worked up about anything. It was both terrifying and, since it seemed to be based in protectiveness towards him, more attractive than was probably appropriate.

“This isn’t journalism, this is just fodder for the masses and it’s despicable – do you really keep pot in your apartment?” She swung round suddenly to look at him.

Steve raised his eyebrows and skimmed through the article to find what she was referring to. “Ah, no. Bucky brought some friends over, one of them had half a joint in her purse.” 

“Bucky’s friends? Why would one of them go to a tabloid?”

“I don’t know. Money? He’s going to be pissed when he finds out.”

Peggy folded her arms and glared at the window for a few moments before sighing. “It’s our own tabloid. It’s run by Shield World Media.”

“Yeah. I know.”

A tense silence hung between them, then Peggy crossed the room and planted her hands on his desk, leaning over it towards him. He could smell her perfume wafting towards him, and had the notion that he could count every single one of her eyelashes if he wanted. Her eyes bored into him, and he felt something inside him leap the way it had the day he had first met her and she had reminded him of everything he wanted to be.

“You realise what they’re doing, don’t you?” she demanded. “Thaddeus Ross wants you out because you’re going after the people he works with, but he can’t just fire you so he’s using the tabloid stories to give him a reason. Creating _context_.” She spat the last word out with disgust.

Steve nodded. “I know.”

“You don’t sound bothered.”

“If Thaddeus Ross wants me out, he’s gonna have to do more than arrange a couple of cheap articles. Besides which, it doesn’t matter. We’ve got a story to work on.”

“Hydra.”

Fury had called them both into his office the previous day. A source had contacted him, wanting to whistleblow on an organisation called Hydra. On the surface it was nothing more than another corporation with assets in multiple industries. Underneath, they were involved in political corruption, blackmail, racketeering, domestic threats – more than enough to put their executives in jail for years.

They had started vetting the source straight away, but Steve as yet only had the barest of facts. Peggy was leading the initial research, and he would head up the Red Team – a number of people who would go over the material once it was all put together with fresh eyes to look for any mistakes or inconsistencies, so they were sure it was solid before they ran with it.

But even so, he felt in his bones that this was a story they wanted to pursue, that they would find the evidence to back up their source’s claims. This was the fight that would make his career worth it.

“If we lose you before the story’s ready …”

“We won’t. I’ll be careful.”

He held her gaze, needing her to know he was serious about this, and some of the hardness left her expression, lips quirking up into a smile.

“Good. Because Thaddeus Ross wants to push you out, he’s going to have to go through me, and I really would rather not have to assault the CEO of our parent company . . .”

There was hardly any space between them. It would barely take any movement for him to lean forward and kiss her … and he really, _really_ wanted to.

He said, “I’ll do my best to ensure that’s not a decision you have to make.”

“I appreciate it.” She straightened back up, and Steve tried to ignore the pang of disappointment.

“I’m glad you have my back, Peggy.”

“Always.”


	6. Chapter 6

Despite their best efforts, the Hydra story proved difficult to crack. Their source only had access to a few files – enough to make them want to do the story, but not enough to go on. The months dragged on as they searched for the crucial evidence to make the story reportable, and every few weeks a new tabloid article would be printed, twisting innocuous situations to further blacken Steve’s reputation.

Still, they carried on doing the news their way and were rewarded by the ratings remaining steady and other more reputable outlets commenting on the new format and speculating on what had driven such a remarkable shift in Steve Rogers’ attitude, increasing his popularity.

“ _A source from SWM claimed that the force behind the show’s new format and Steve Roger’s remarkable transformation is Executive Producer Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter,”_ Bucky read out from a blog one day over lunch. “ _They went on to say, ‘I swear, that woman could make Steve do anything.’_  And of course, they go on to speculate about what anything could mean.”

“Do you they have to make it sound so tawdry?” Steve asked, frowning. He wondered if making a couple of phone calls would get them to leave Peggy out of their pettiness, or if it would just make things worse. And if he could find out who this source from the company was. “She’s a qualified, talented professional.”

Bucky shrugged and carried on reading. “ _The same source also said that when they spoke to Peggy about the changes, she said that if the press insisted on calling Rogers Captain America, then she was going ‘to take his talent, charm and intelligent and put them to some actual patriotic use.’_ ” Bucky stopped to laugh. “Have I mentioned how much I like that woman?”

A warm smile lit Steve’s face. “Yeah. So do I.”

After the show’s one year anniversary and inquiries from several different outlets, they agreed to have a journalist from New York Magazine in to write about the show – someone who would get complete access to the newsroom and be able to see for themselves what their team was trying to achieve.

Or at least that was the plan.

 _Captain America: The Greater Fool_ was the headline when it came out. Peggy read through it with increasing disbelief and anger. It called them – it called _Steve_ outdated and misguided, suggesting his ideas and ideals would have served him better if he had lived during the forties rather than the twenty-first century. That what he wanted was impossible; he was holding the world to an impossible standard that ignored the realities of modern governance and he would better off accepting that and bowing out gracefully now.

When was finished, Peggy seriously considered setting fire to the magazine, threw it into the trash, and immediately made her way over to Steve’s apartment.

“It was a hatchet job,” Peggy told him as soon as he let her in.

It was a spacious, minimally furnished place. A few artistic black-and-white photographs hung on the walls, photos of his mother and friends sat on the shelves, and an easel with a half-finished painting of the Brooklyn Bridge was tucked into one corner. Every part of it just felt like Steve, and Peggy loved it.

“Yeah …” he said heavily, not sounding convinced.

“It _was_ ,” Peggy insisted, “It was utter bollocks. Just spite and professional jealousy.”

“Maybe.” He flopped down on to the sofa and rubbed his forehead.

Frowning, Peggy slowly lowered herself to sit down beside him. She knew he had been hopeful for what the story would say and do, and when she had read it, besides fury, her first reaction had been anxiety over the disappointment Steve would feel. But this … exhaustion in his face and voice seemed to go beyond that.

Noticing he was holding something in his hand, fiddling with it, she asked, “What’s that?”

“Huh? Oh.” He held it up, and she saw it was an old, battered compass. “It was my grandpa’s. He carried it with him during the war. I guess I always get it out when I feel like I’m a bit lost …” A wry smile touched his lips. “Maybe that’s why I’m so outdated, using a seventy-year-old compass.”

Peggy gave him a look. “You’re not outdated. It was a hatchet job.”

He didn’t say anything.

“It _was_. It was rubbish, Steve, you have to believe – what’s _that_?” She broke off as she suddenly noticed a bottle with a prescription label on the coffee table in front of them.

“You remember I told you I used to get stomach ulcers? Well, sometimes I still do. Not often, but occasionally, when I’m run down or feeling stressed …” He let the sentence hang.

“Stressed. Like now, with the Hydra story and with this.” She brought her gaze back to his face, trying to figure out what was happening behind his expression. “Why was this story so important? You’ve had bad press before, what makes this so different?”

He sighed again, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. “The tabloids are just people pitching rocks, trying to hit something. They don’t mean anything. But this is bigger than that, it’s someone’s honest opinion even after seeing what we’re trying to do. I guess I thought … I wanted this article to be a rallying cry, or something. I thought if people could really understand what we’re doing, they’d want in on it. They’d want to support us, they’d want other news stations to be like us. Maybe we could affect some real change.”

“We are affecting real change, by doing the news right. Maybe we won’t see that for a while, but we _are_. That’s what matters.”

“Don’t you ever have doubts?”

“What do you mean?”

Steve gestured to the article lying open on his table. “About this. About whether there’s a point. Our CEO is trying to manufacture a reason to fire us, guests are wary about coming on now, people aren’t getting the facts even though we’re giving them – Natasha’s been talking about the debt ceiling every night for _weeks_ and people still think it means borrowing more money. Exactly the same _number_ of people. People aren’t getting it, Peggy. And the one story that would make it worth it we can’t get the evidence for. Don’t you ever just get tired?”

He looked at her, so vulnerable and open that her heart ached for him.

“All the time,” she said. His eyes widened in surprise. “But I learned a long time ago that there are some things you can’t compromise on. That you _mustn’t_. Even when it’s hard. Even when the rest of the world is against you and telling you to move, if you know in your bones that it’s right then it’s your duty to plant yourself like a tree and to say ‘No. You move.’”

For several long moments there was nothing but the sound of both of them breathing, eyes locked together, Steve looked at her as if she were a revelation – or as if he were having one. He swallowed, and Peggy wondered if he, too, could feel the tension that seemed to simmer in the air between them. It was like a kind of gravity, drawing them towards each other until there were only a few inches of space between them. She could feel the heat from his body, see every crease in his forehead, the few, branching lines at the corners of his eyes, and the blond shadow of stubble beginning to show on his jaw.

“Yeah.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Something Peggy couldn’t quite put a name to flickered in the back of his eyes, but it stirred something in her gut and made her very aware of how hard her heart was pounding in her chest.

Hesitatingly, his mouth opened and he asked, “Why are you single?”

Peggy blinked in surprise, then her lips curled into a soft, sly smile. “I’m waiting for the right partner.”

Time seemed to slow. She saw recognition spark in his eyes as he took those words in, a sudden light as he understood, and then felt his body begin to bend towards hers –

\- which was, of course, when her phone started to ring.

Cursing, she scrambled to find it in her bag and answered without looking at the screen. “This is Carter --” She paused, listening, then turned to Steve with a grimly triumphant look. “We found the evidence we need. This is it, Steve. We’ve got Hydra.”


	7. Chapter 7

The special report documenting and revealing the truth of what Hydra had been doing had the highest ratings the network had ever seen.

The report itself was damning.

Uncovering the evidence had been like toppling a stack of dominoes: once they had one, all the rest fell into place. Their whistleblower had convinced someone higher up to come forward and they soon had files, interviews, transcripts, everything they needed to thoroughly and without doubt reveal the extent of Hydra’s corruption.

The atmosphere the night they aired it was like nothing Steve had ever experienced in his decade of reporting. The room felt electric, and he would have sworn that he could hear every single person in the newsroom holding their breath.

He could feel his own nerves jangling and kept expecting to stumble over his own words, but through it all was Peggy’s voice in his ear, reminding him what was coming up and keeping him calm. This was it. This was everything they been working for. He remembered the fervency in her face when she said there were some things you mustn’t compromise on and was determined not to let her down.

When the broadcast ended, the entire newsroom burst into applause. Gabriel Jones in the control room let out a loud, whooping cheer.

Bucky and Sam had brought champagne for them all to celebrate, and even as they poured it out already their phones and computers were bleeping with Twitter notifications and alerts as the internet exploded in the wake of the story.

As he came out of the studio, Steve was looking for just one person. Peggy was just emerging from the control room and when their eyes met, he smiled widely and mouthed, “We did it.”

Face shining with pride, she nodded. “We did it.”

He took a step forward, intending to go to her, but Bucky suddenly appeared in front of him, clapping him on the shoulder and congratulating him. Then Sam was there as well, and everyone who had opted to stay with him when Fury decided to shake things up – Dugan, Morita, Falsworth, Jones and Dernier. Even Fury himself, a satisfied smile on his face that said, _I told you this would work_ , as he shook Steve’s hand.

Swept up in the celebration, Steve found himself moving around the room, a glass of champagne pressed into his hand by someone, trying to keep up as he switched from conversation to conversation. Occasionally he was interrupted by his phone ringing as other networks called to ask about their sources and evidence, or just to congratulate him on a show well done.

At one point Falsworth caught him to tell him that the FBI and CIA had issued statements that they would be investigating the allegations made, while several prominent figures whose names had appeared in the report were already trying to distance themselves, claiming they hadn’t known what Hydra was doing.

Alexander Pierce was one of them.

Finally, probably past midnight, he managed to escape the crowd – which had swelled to include people from other floors of the buildings, close friends and significant others – and stood to one side, taking advantage of having space to breathe.

“That was a great report.”

He glanced down to see Natasha Romanoff, their financial and economic analyst, stood next to him.

“Thanks.”

“A lot of people are probably going to go to jail over this.”

“Good.” He shrugged. “They deserve it.”

She smiled. “I didn’t say they didn’t.”

Across the room, Steve thought he caught a glimpse of Peggy’s dark curls disappearing into her office. Ever since she had left his apartment the other day he had kept thinking about what she had said – _I’m waiting for the right partner_ – and the moment that had followed, when he had almost –

“You should go after her.”

Startled, he turned back to Natasha. “What?”

“You should go after her. Alone in her office, after the biggest broadcast of both of your careers, everyone celebrating … seems the perfect time.”

“You think so? You don’t think it would be inappropriate?”

“Oh, please. That’s just an excuse people use to hide the face that they’re scared. It’s not like anyone would be surprised.” At his expression, she grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Everyone talks about the way you moon at each other across the room. Put us all out of our misery and do something about it.”

Steve had no idea how to respond to that. “Everyone talks …?”

“Everyone talks. Especially Barnes.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You wouldn’t be trying to win a bet, by any chance?”

“Maybe. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong. You should go and talk to her.”

“I’m going to.”

“You should.”

“Alright.”

“You’re still standing here.”

Steve took a breath and looked towards the door of Peggy’s office. “I’m going to go.”

“Haven’t moved.”

Before Natasha could say anything else Steve finished the last of his champagne and started across the room, abandoning the empty glass on a desk as he went.

He felt, if anything, more nervous than he had done a few hours ago before the broadcast. At the time he had thought that giving the report would be the most important thing he did tonight – but this beat it by a mile.

“Peggy?”

She had kept the lights off and was stood in front of her window, looking down at the lights of the traffic. At the sound of his voice she turned around and smiled.

“Hi. That was quite a show.”

“Couldn’t have done it without my EP.” He took a few steps towards her, but stopped in the middle of the room. “You okay?”

“Yes, fine. Just needed a bit of a break.”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “I get that.”

They lapsed into silence, smiling at each other. A warmth spread through Steve’s chest as he looked at her; there was something strangely intimate about the hush wrapped around them as they stood quietly together in her darkened office, and he knew if he was going to have the courage to say anything then it would have to be now.

“So … listen, I was wondering …”

“Yes?”

He took a breath. “I was wondering if you would like to go dancing.”

Her eyes widened a little, but she was still smiling. “Now?”

“Now, or tomorrow, or whenever you like. As long as you’re going with me.”

She laughed. “Very smooth.”

Closing the space between them, he grinned. “It kinda was, wasn’t it? Which is unusual for me, so I don’t want to ruin it. But I’d really like it if you said yes.”

He was stood right next to her now, so that she had to lean backwards to look up at him. She was lit only by the lights from the newsroom coming through the obscured glass walls and the traffic from outside, but even so he could see that her dark eyes were sparkling. “Would you?”

“I would. Because the thing is, I’m most of the way to being in love with you already. Maybe more than that.”

He heard her catch her breath and her lips, painted perfectly in red lipstick, parted slightly. His heart gave an unsteady thump.

“I ruined it, didn’t I? Shit. I didn’t mean – well, I did, but can we go back -”

He was cut off by Peggy reaching up and pulling him down by the collar of his shirt to kiss him.

Her lips were soft beneath his, but she kissed him as did everything else – deliberately, determinedly, with absolute purpose. Her perfume swirled around him, flowery and intoxicating. As he brought his arms around her he felt her hands move up to cradle his jaw, her fingers gently caressing and leaving trails of fire where they touched him. His pulse hammered in his ears, and he was breathless when she finally pulled back just enough to whisper,

“No, you didn’t ruin it. I’m saying yes.”

For a moment he felt unsteady on his feet. Instinctively, he pulled her more tightly against him. “You are?”

“Yes.”

Her expression seemed to say, _Of course I am_ , and Steve thought it was the best thing he had ever seen. A smile filled with more joy that he could ever remember feeling stretched his mouth wide, enough to feel like his face might split in two.

“And I’m maybe more than halfway in love as well.”

“Oh, good,” he said, and started kissing her again.


	8. Chapter 8

It was the empty space beside her in the bed that woke Peggy, as she rolled over between dreams.

Pushing herself up, she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the early morning, then looked around to see that, yes she was alone in the room.

With a yawn, blearily rubbing her eyes, she threw the covers off and got up, her body shivering in complaint at the exchange of a warm bed for cool air. She grabbed her robe from where she had tossed it on to the chair in the corner the night before and shrugged it on as she padded out of the bedroom and down the hallway to where she knew she would find Steve.

Soft light spilled out from the under the door at the end of the hall and she pushed it open gently before poking her head inside.

And there was Steve, just as she had known he would be, sat in the large rocking chair in the corner and gazing at their two children with adoration – little Lizzie, just seven months old, in her crib and, on the other side of the room, two-year-old James, who had just moved to his first big boy’s bed and had somehow managed to turn himself upside down as he slept.

Since their children had been born, Steve had been the most doting father, wrapped around every single one of their tiny fingers. When they had first brought Jamie home from the hospital he had been worried that their son would have inherited the poor immune system he had had as a child, so Peggy had gotten used to waking up and finding Steve in the nursery, making sure that James was still breathing alright. After it became clear that, thankfully, their son was strong and healthy, Steve had gotten so much into the habit of watching over Jamie as he slept that there were still plenty of nights that Peggy would find him here – and it only continued when Lizzie was born.

Not that she blamed him. She would herself have happily spent days at a time watching her children, the flutter of their eyelashes and gentle rise and fall of their chests as they slept. They were utterly intoxicating to her, and had been since the moment they had first been placed into her arms.

Now, looking at Steve as he watched them, a fierce, indescribable love filled Peggy’s entire being, so intense that she couldn’t believe she was able to feel so much. These three people were her life, and she would do absolutely anything for them.

Smiling, she came fully into the nursery and stepped over to Steve, who looked softly up at her.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hi.” She reached out to run her fingers through her hair. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Nah. Sit with me.”

He tugged on her hand and pulled her down into his lap. She leaned into him as his arms came around her, tucking her head beneath his chin.

“You know, I was thinking,” he said. “It was five years ago today that Fury called me in to tell me he’d hired a new EP.”

“And you tried to talk him out of it?” Peggy smiled.

Steve gave a quiet huff of laugher. “I didn’t try that hard. Imagine if I had … I could still be doing an easy show with Bucky.”

“You’d still be getting full nights of sleep, instead of getting up to change nappies.”

“I wouldn’t be married to the head of the News Division.”

Peggy felt a swell of pride. The promotion had been unexpected, especially when she had been part of the team that caused so much trouble for the network, but when Fury decided to retire he had said she was his only choice to replace him. “You say that, but you know, I saw the way Nick used to look at you …”

Steve snorted, and Peggy made an effort to swallow her own laughter so as not to wake the children.

“In case you didn’t know,” he whispered into her ear, “I’m really glad he hired you.”

Leaning up, she pressed a kiss to his lips. “In case you didn’t know, so am I.”


End file.
